A New Friend to Lean On
by america-is-gay
Summary: This is a request for my friend Christina! Alfred notices how sad Russia is one day at a World Conference, and talks to him after.


World Meetings were an organized chaos, Alfred had always thought. Cacophonies of harmony. Jagged puzzle pieces forcing themselves together to create a picture.

Alfred had always thought it was fascinating how nations never changed. England, France...They were exactly the same. They held the same values, beliefs, and, of course, grudges that they had since Al was a still a colony.

Al was so different from them. He reflected upon this as he watched Arthur and Francis bicker again. Al sighed and took a sip of Mountain Dew before shifting his papers and tapping them on the desk. He surveyed the other nations, most of whom were just making small talk or banter with one another. Alfred looked down the table, his eyes finally resting upon Russia. He sat, like he had at every World Meeting for the past couple years, silently. At the meetings he didn't do much more than say the few words required of him and stare at his scarf. For once, Alfred really noticed how lonely the Russian was. All of the nations avoided him, and ever since the Soviet Union collapsed, he had lived alone.

Before the collapse, he was friendly, always smiling and attempting to chat with the other nations, no matter how much they avoided him.

It was like he finally just gave up trying to be he finally admitted to defeat and accepted that everyone hated him.

Al realized, for the first time, that the Cold War had a victor. Tensions didn't just deflate. Things didn't just die down and return to normal, like he had liked to believe. There was a winner and a loser, like everything else in life. And Alfred had won. Russia had lost. The poor guy had lost everything, it dawned on him. His empire, his power, his friends...He had nothing. Alfred's heart twisted.

America imagined going home to a large, extravagant mansion, lavishly furnished and gorgeously decorated. He imagined walking up the marble steps to the large oak door with the royal coat of arms carved in the door, stepping into the foyer and to be greeted by nothing but absolute silence. He imagined eating breakfast in the mornings alone and going to bed alone and cold every night.

Alfred had spent years living in fear of this nation and doing everything in his power to spite him. For years, he had seen him as a threat, the only nation whose strength matched his.

Now he just pitied him. He didn't seem very threatening at all. All of the Europeans, especially the Eastern Europeans, where terrified of him. They wouldn't even sit near him at the meetings. In fact, there was a one-seat radius of empty chairs surrounding Russia.

He slouched over the table pathetically, like he had lost the energy or will to even sit up. But no one seemed to notice—or, rather, no one seemed to _care_.

Something about it seemed horribly cruel to Alfred, and guilt suddenly began to claw at him

Alfred huffed and learned back in his chair. The clock said there was 14 minutes left of the meeting. The nations were up to their usual antics. Matthew was sat next to Alfred, sitting quietly and calmly like usual. Arthur was reading a newspaper. Germany, Italy, and Japan were speaking in a circle together. China was scolding Taiwan.

Al spent a lot of time in the spotlight, it was nice just to observe sometimes.

He sighed softly and reached behind the chair for his bomber jacket, then swiftly slipped it on and wrapped himself with it. The smell and feel of it were a comfort to him, somehow. He'd had it for so long, it was like a piece of him.

The minutes waned away, and Alfred noticed that, as soon as the clock struck 4:30, Ivan packed up his papers, threw on a coat, and made for the door. America rushed to catch up with him, dodging through the other nations, and catching the door as it closed.

"Hey, Russia!" He called down the hall. Russia turned, confused, and said, "Amerika?"

"Heya," Alfred said, approaching the Slavic.

Russia's violet eyes flashed warily, and he pursed his lips.

"What do you want?" he asked carefully, his eyes never meeting Alfred's.

Alfred was cut off by the other nations filing out of the meeting room, and he waited patiently for them to leave, waving to every one as the walked past. Russia stared at the floor as they cast cautious looks in his direction.

A few years ago, Russia would've have waved heartily at them as they left. He would've given them handshakes, hugs, pats on the back. Now he wouldn't even look at them.

Alfred and Russia watched Greece and Spain, the last two nations to always leave any sort of event, walked down the hallway, their shoes clicking on the tile.

Alfred gestured for Russia to sit down on the cushioned bench outside the conference room.

Russia nodded and took a seat, maintaining a distance from Al.

Alfred cleared his throat, quickly combing his brain for something to say before things got awkward.

"So," he began. "How have you been, man? You've been acting...different."

"I'm fine," Russia said, shrinking back into himself.

Alfred turned to face him.

"No," he said. "You're not."

Russia sighed. "Things have been difficult, after the collapse. But I am fine."

"Look, the past few years have been rough for the both of us. But I know you got the short end of the stick here. You lost everything, didn't you?"

Russia finally turned to face Alfred, looking up at him, eyes full of misery. He met Al's gaze for a moment, but then turned back down to the floor.

"_Da_," he mumbled, after a moment. "I did."  
They both turned parallel from each other one again, Russia leaning back, Alfred leaning forward and propping himself up on his right hand.

After several moments, Alfred turned back to Russia, whose lip was quivering and whose eyes were welling up with tears.

"Russia...?" Alfred said, taken aback.

Russia brought his hands up to mask his face, but Al could see his body shaking softly.

Putting a hand on Russia's knee, Alfred murmured, "hey, it's okay. Everything will be fine."

"It's never fine!" Russia said, tearing his hands away from his face and reaching for his scarf. "Everything I do, everything I work for falls apart!"

Alfred watched as Russia sat, playing with the frayed edge of his scarf, tears streaming down his face.

"I hate this," he lamented between hics and sobs.

"Hate what?" Alfred asked sadly.

"THIS!" Russia shouted. "Being a nation, being a failure! Being unwanted!"

Alfred was shocked, and didn't know what to say.

"Don't think I don't notice," Russia said, glaring at Alfred. "Do not think I do not see the stares, the looks of terror. Everyone is afraid of me. Everyone hates me, I know this."

Al smiled sadly. "I don't hate you, Ivan."

Ivan seemed a bit off-put by being addressed by his human name, but then he clammed back up and hissed, "You lie. You existed purely to give me hell not too many years ago."

"I never hated you," Al chuckled, trying not to show how much this was hurting him to watch. "I was just afraid for my people."

Russia began to sob harder, burying his face in his hands and weeping pathetically.

"I am cursed," he said, voice cracking. "I am a curse. All I do is bring misfortune."

"No, you aren't," Al mused, sadness begin to seep into his voice. "You're a nation! A superpower! You're strong, and brave!"

Russia's face contorted with rage.

"Stop lying to me, Amerika! You don't understand! People love you!"

Alfred looked down at his shoes.

"No, they don't," he said. "All I do is piss people off nowadays."

He could feel Russia's violet gaze upon his cheek, and then turned back, feigning a smile.

The corner of Russia's lip twitched up in a smile for a moment, and then Alfred was lounging forward and engulfing the Russian in his arms.

Russia sat rigid for a few moments, but then returned the embrace, burying his head in Alfred's neck.

"Hey, big guy," Alfred said. "It's alright. It's okay."

And with that, Russia began to sob harder than ever, taking advantage of having a shoulder to cry on.

"I have no idea what to do," he wailed into Alfred's coat. "I am so lonely, Alfred."

"I know," Alfred said, stroking Russia's light hair. It was surprisingly soft. Russia was also surprisingly warm. And Alfred was enjoying Russia's touch a surprisingly large amount.

Russia tried to steady and relax himself for a bit, and managed to get out, "sometimes I just wish I was mortal. This-" before being reduced back to tears.

"We all wish we were mortal," Alfred said. "No one wants immortality once they have it, Ivan."

"It would all be over," Russia said. "No matter how hard I try, I can't end it."

Alfred gripped him tighter.

"I'm pretty sure all of us have tried at some point," Alfred sighed. "We all want out at some point or another."

"But you don't have to spend forever being me," Russia hissed. "I would give anything to just not be me."

Alfred slipped his finger's between Ivan's hair and gripped tightly, and shushed him.

"It's alright, Ivan," he lied. Alfred was a terrible liar. He hadn't even convinced himself.

Russia just sobbed harder. Alfred didn't say anything. He just stroked his back and let him cry. Alfred wondered when the last time the big guy had cried. He wondered if he was letting out a century's-worth of frustration, anger, and misery.

Alfred didn't know what to say or do. He figured the best he could do was just be _there_. Russia had no one. No shoulders to lean on, no one to talk to when he needed someone. No one had been there for Ivan for years.

"I'm here," he cooed, resting his chin on Russia's head. "Don't worry."

Russia gripped Al even tighter, reveling in the fact that he couldn't hurt Alfred like he accidentally hurt everyone else.  
Russia huffed, taking a deep breath to collect himself before he sat up again. His hair was a mess and his eyes were red and watery.

"I am sorry," he said, beginning to wipe the remnants of his tears off his face. Al stopped him and wiped them off himself, smiling.

"Don't be," he reassured the Russian.

Ivan smiled. He smiled a smile that Alfred had never realized he had missed until just then. He smiled a smile so warm and so bright, Alfred chuckled and wrapped his arms around Russia once more.

Ivan laughed, gripping Al tightly and standing up, swinging him around.

"Woah!" Al said, still laughing. "Put me down!"

"I am sorry, Alfred!" Russia said, burying his face a little in his scarf. "I am just...So happy."

Alfred felt himself blushing. "I'm glad you are, big guy."

And then Alfred grabbed his briefcase and turned back to Russia.

"Would you like to do something with me? I was just gonna go home after the confrence, but I could go for a drink."

Russia's pale face turned bright red.

"O-of course!"

And with that, they walked down the hall and headed for the stairs.

"Alfred?" Russia said tentatively, as they took the first few steps down.

"Yeah?"

"Does this means we're friends now?"

Alfred chuckled, and then he turned to face Russia, who looked hurt and confused.

"Yes, it does," he said, looking sideways at Russia. "Of course it does."

And as they walked out the door of the business center, Alfred noticed that they were holding hands.


End file.
